


Best Mistake

by litmilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: (I think those are the same thing?), Angst, Cheating, Happy Ending, Infidelity, M/M, non Canon, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litmilkovich/pseuds/litmilkovich
Summary: Mickey cheats, Ian breaks.They always find their way back home.





	Best Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyo! Don't be mad I started another thing.. it's just a one shot! Anyways, this was a little side project for Leanna <3 A warning before reading this: this is non-canon. Mickey cheats on Ian. Besides that, I think it stays semi-canon? Anyways, if that's not your cup of tea, please don't read it. However, if you enjoy angst, please read :) enjoy! Also: there is smut towards the end.

Ian loved his job. Owning his own company was something he didn't see himself doing, but the love for his work stemmed from the fact he was able to provide for his family. He worked odd hours, usually late into the night or even into early mornings. Tonight, he was home earlier than anticipated. He'd originally planned on staying at the hotel near his work building, but found himself missing the familiarity of home.

As he walked through the entryway of their house, he loosened his tie after kicking off his shoes and setting his briefcase in it's usual spot on the dining table. He could tell the kids were asleep by the lack of chaos, of which he was grateful for. He'd had a shitty week and was ready to spend his day off sleeping in and taking the kids out in the beautiful summer weather he'd been missing out on while he was at work.

He went through the motions of brushing his teeth and showering the day off of his body before peaking in to each of their kids' bedrooms, smiling as he saw the blankets rise and fall with their steady breathing. He even snuck in to plant a soft kiss to their heads. It always pained him that he was rarely there for bedtime, but reminded himself it was all for them anyways.

Their room was dark save for the soft glow of a lamp visible from under the door, making Ian smile softly. It was always nice when Mickey waited up for him, despite him insisting against it. It was the grunting, however, that made him raise his eyebrows. Mickey was allowed to masturbate, of course, especially when Ian worked so much and rarely was awake when he was in bed let alone fucking. It was just.. they sounded different. His heart sank when he remembered Mickey's actions recently, the way he'd been distant, hickeys on his neck he didn't remember leaving, unfamiliar cologne clinging to his skin. His feet felt like lead as he trudged towards the room.

The grunting sounded more frantic the closer he got, his heart pounding in his ears when he found the sounds mixed, like there was two people. He could feel every nerve in his body come alive, his hand on the door knob gripping it like a vice before he turned it and opened the door.

He felt every vein in his body, head to toe, run ice cold and fiery hot all at once when he laid eyes on his husband balls deep in another man, in their bed.

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" Ian shouted, damn near sure the picture frames on the wall shook slightly. He recognized the man, a paid intern at his own fucking company. His eyes narrowed, feet frozen in place with his hand still on the door knob while the other gestured to the sight before him. "This has to be a fucking _joke_ , Mickey!" He yelled angrily as he watched his husband scramble to cover himself and the man below him struggle to pull on his boxers.

"Ian, hold on," Mickey hissed in a hushed tone. "The kids are asleep—," he said frantically and stumbled out of bed to pull on some clothes. "Why are you even here? You told me you were crashing at work!" Mickey huffed, as if Ian was in the wrong. Oh, _fuck_ no.

"Excuse the fuck out of me for wanting to come to _my_ own home to sleep next to _my_ husband and kiss _my_ kids goodnight!" He bellowed, watching as the scum who Mickey was fucking, and soon getting fired, ran out of the bedroom and effectively out of the house with only one of his legs in his pants.

"So let me get this straight," Ian's voice was eerily quiet. "I bust my ass all day, every day, to provide for you and our kids, and I come home to find you fucking some queen on our bed while our kids sleep across the hall?" Ian's voice steadily climbed into a scream, the veins in his temples bulging as he got angrier.

Mickey fish mouthed, his arms crossing over his chest, "don't pretend like I don't bust my ass, too!" He shot back, to which Ian balked at him. "Don't pretend I don't pull my weight! Just because you're never home doesn't mean I'm always here," he hissed.

"So now you're going to turn this shit on me? Nuh uh, _hell_ no," Ian growled and marched to their closet to pull out a duffle bag and toss it at Mickey.

"Pack your shit and leave before I toss it all out the fucking window, I swear on everything, Mickey," his voice wavered slightly. He admonished himself, he wouldn't cry. Not now.

"Wait, Ian," Mickey's demeanor changed, shoulders slumped as his eyes clouded with tears. "Don't do this," he breathed and reached out for Ian, who dodged his touch.

"You don't get to make me feel bad for you, Mick," Ian said, voice deceptively quiet again. "If you don't start packing your shit in five seconds, I'll lose it," he growled when Mickey stood still, seemingly frozen in place.

"Alright, fine," Ian said resolutely, pointing towards their bedroom door, "out."

"Ian," Mickey begged when he started grabbing some of Mickey's shirts and throwing them at him to steadily back him out of the room. He was well aware he was throwing a temper tantrum, but he deemed it warranted.

"You want to fuck other men? Fine," Ian shouted, tossing a picture frame from the wall in the stairway once he ran out of clothes to throw. "You want to ruin our marriage? Also fine," he huffed and continued tossing picture frames at him, shoving a chair in Mickey's direction when they reached the dining room. "But bringing another man into my house where our children are sleeping? Not fine," he spoke quietly, voice a menacing hiss.

"Ian— _baby_ , please, I didn't— hear me out," he croaked out, tears falling down his cheeks in thick rivulets. "You were never home, and I know that's no excuse—," he babbled when Ian chucked a stray spoon from their dining table at him.

"I don't want your excuses, I want you to leave! Go be with that bastard! You clearly have your priorities straight," he hissed and finally stopped throwing things, arms crossed over his chest. "Go," Ian breathed, tears that collected in his eyes falling down his cheeks now.

"Ian, I love you," Mickey wept, striding over to him and caressing Ian's face to pull him into a closed mouth kiss.

Ian couldn't help but relax into it, his muscles loosening on instinct at Mickey's familiar touch. He soon recoiled, pushing at Mickey's chest when he persisted. " _Out_ ," Ian whispered with finality, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Mickey opened his mouth to say something, words leaving him before he wordlessly left with a sad glance over his shoulder.

As soon as the door closed, Ian grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and screamed into it, letting out obscenities and sobs before kicking the table and tossing the pillow to the floor. He pushed his hair back, still damp from the shower he took previous. He took several deep breathes, placing a hand over his mouth as his eyes closed and replayed images of his worst nightmare come to life.

"Daddy?"

Ian's heart sank as he turned around and saw as their daughter Liv hid behind Yevgeny's legs, and their youngest, Alex, hiding behind her.

Ian cleared his throat and wiped his face again, "yes, sweetface?" Ian tried, his voice rough from all the screaming.

"Why were you shouting at papa?" Liv asked carefully, looking smaller than normal.

Yevgeny sat as their oldest at fifteen, Liv a surrogate from Mandy with Ian's sperm who came in the middle at five, and their youngest, Alex, who they adopted from an agency on the southside who was their youngest at three.

Ian forced a smile and admired the way Yev was being such a good brother, standing like their protector.

"Um," Ian sighed eloquently, holding his elbows at his sides, digging his nails into his skin. "Papa is.." he pondered for a moment. "He's gonna be away for a while, okay?" He concluded and made his way up the stairs, ushering the younger children into their respective rooms while Yevgeny stayed behind. He knew he'd have to give more of an actual explanation to him.

Alex went down without a fight, sleep taking him pretty quickly since he was already dropy eyed and sleepy. Liv, however, looked upset, a gentle crease between her eyebrows.

"Are you mad at papa?" She asked softly and hugged her teddy bear close.

Ian pet her unruly hair from her eyes, caressing her cheek softly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "A little, yeah," the understatement of the year.

"Do you still love papa?" She asked as her eyes dropped, sleep overtaking her slowly.

"Yeah, sweetie," he said softly. He didn't quite know.

"Okay," she murmured before finally succumbing to sleep.

He left her room wordlessly, finding Yevgeny picking up the state of the living room. The furniture was upright again, several picture frames back in their place.

"Hey, you don't have to do that, I can take care if it," Ian shrugged and went downstairs. "I made the mess, anyways."

"What happened?" He asked, point blank.

Ian leaned his shoulder against the wall, eyeing several pictures that were a little crooked. "Caught him with another man in our bed," he told him bluntly. He never did beat around the bush with Yev. The kid was southside for the beginning of his life, despite their affluence now. He didn't want to shelter any of his kids from the real world, but he couldn't help but be reluctant to showcase his marital issues to his toddlers. Yevgeny could handle it.

"Shit," Yevgeny breathed. "I don't.. I never thought you and Pops would.." he trailed off, the look on his face so painfully akin to Mickey he felt his heart constrict. "Just now?" He asked and cringed when Ian nodded.

"It's nothing for you to worry over, understand? It's summertime," he smiled and ruffled Yevgeny's hair. "Go out and be a kid, don't worry about it," he murmured and was surprised when Yev shoved himself into his arms. "Y'alright?" He asked with his chin resting atop his son's head.

"Yeah— I just, I love you," he murmured and peeled himself away from his dad.

Ian softened, "I love you too, buddy, go get some sleep," he added before letting Yevgeny run upstairs to finish his rest.

He started to pick up the rest of the living room, hoping he could do the same with his marriage.

-

Mickey knew it was fucked up. There was absolutely no excuse in the world he could ever muster for this to be okay, at all. He just— he was _lonely_. He was so bone crushingly _lonely_ sometimes when Ian was away at work; and, sure, he worked too, but he had a steady nine to five. Ian was his own boss, which had him more busy with less solid hours.

He hated the look on Ian's face when he left, the way the glass in the frames shattered in Ian's (justified) anger, and the way he was sure his shit was all burned to cinder right about now.

He knew the last place he should go was to Mandy, because she had a big mouth and an even bigger soft spot for Ian. It was either Mandy or Svetlana, and he knew Svet wouldn't have any remorse bashing his head in. At least Mandy was just all bark, no bite. As far as he knew, or at least hoped. He didn't want to have walked an hour for nothing other than a door slammed in his face.

He buzzed her apartment, his skin clammy from sweat and the chilly summer breeze. It was pretty late, nearly one in the morning, so he buzzed a second time before Mandy's irritated voice sounded through the intercom. "Who the fuck is it?" She hissed, her voice rough from sleep.

"Uh," Mickey said dumbly, "its Mickey," he talked into the air, anxiously shifting his weight from side to side.

"Mickey? What the fuck? Why are you here?" She groaned, the buzzer ringing obnoxiously before he could answer her. He shoved through the doors and made it up to Mandy's in record time, knocking hurriedly on the door.

Mid knock, Mandy opened up, zit cream plastered in dots over her face and all. "It's one thirty in the morning on a Thursday, asswipe. Don't you got a family? And a house?" She groused and walked out of the way to make way for her brother.

Mickey shuffled in with his hands in his pockets, hoping she didn't see how red his eyes were from the semi violent sobbing he did on his walk there. He plopped himself down on her couch, putting his head in his hands and massaged his temples with his thumbs.

She leaned against a wall, one leg propped up with her arms crossed. "You and Ian fight or somethin'?" She asked through a yawn, to which Mickey shuddered. A fight, indeed.

"I cheated on him," he blurted, feeling his face flush with shame. He knew whatever he had coming, he deserved.

Much to Mickey's surprise, Mandy laughed, taking her foot off the wall to stand up straight. "Ha ha, very funny. What actually happened?" She asked, the smile on her face slowly and frighteningly fade into something akin to murder when she saw the look on Mickey's face. He was serious.

"You _what_?" Mandy roared, stomping over to him and pinching his ear like a damn crab. She yanked his head to the side, her eyes narrowed and teeth bared. Mandy could be a scary bitch if she wanted to be.

"Shit, fuck! That hurts, let me go, bitch! I'll tell you what happened," he hissed and rubbed his ear when she finally let him free, her hands at her hips, legs wide and shoulders back in a menacing pose.

"You better be fucking joking, asshole, or I'll take your ass down," she said with too much seriousness for Mickey to even snicker. Mandy was small, but she knew how to fight.

"So.. I didn't think he was coming home tonight, and— like," he rubbed his palm over his forehead with a warbled sigh. "He caught me in bed with some temp from his work I've been fucking on the side," he rushed out, hissing when he felt Mandy's fist collide with his shoulder several times.

"You— what the fuck, Mickey? You're such," punch, "a piece," another jab, "of shit!" She concluded with a final blow.

"I deserved that," he winced and rested his head in his hands again. "It's just—," He groaned and laid back against the sofa. "I was lonely, okay? He was always working or busy, I'd leave and he wasn't home, I'd come back and he wasn't home," he trailed off. "I missed him," he sighed.

Mandy put her hands on her hips again, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. "You missed him, so you cheated on him? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" She snarled in disgust. Before Mickey could get a word in, she continued on her rampage. "You are not the victim here, understand?" She pointed accusingly at him. " _You_ fucked up, and _you_ need to fix it."

Mickey's mouth opened and closed for a few moments before he blurted something he didn't mean. "He's cheated on me before!" He hated himself as soon as he words left his mouth.

Mandy's mouth twisted in disgust, "how _dare_ you," she shook her head. "That was _years_ ago, Mick. He was _manic_ , you know that," the last part was softer, reminiscent. Mickey felt like shit.

"You're fixing this, asshole, I don't care how, but you're fixing this before Ian fucking.." she trailed off and gesticulated into the wide open of her living room. "Who knows," she shrugged and plopped down beside him on the couch.

Mickey knew Mandy would react this way. Sure, he was her brother, but Ian was the first boy besides her siblings that didn't treat her like garbage. She also carried his _baby_ , for fucks sake. Mandy never wanted kids, but she was selfless enough to give Ian a baby with some Gallagher and Milkovich DNA. If Mickey didn't know better, he'd suspect Mandy of favoring Ian over him. She probably did now.

"I know," Mickey said mournfully. "Can I crash here, please? Ian kicked me out," Mandy stood up with a muttered "serves you right," but nodded nonetheless.

"Couch is all yours," she huffed and disappeared into her bedroom.

He had a lot of work to do.

-

Ian decided to extend his day off to three. It was uncharacteristic, but he'd survive, because he was confident in his company. He needed time.

Before he could venture deep into his insecurities as to _why_ Mickey would even consider doing what he did, he needed to let off some steam. In the form of destroying all of Mickey's things.

He started with his cell phone, of which was left on his bedside table, face down. It was almost dead, a single text from Ian on the screen.

 _ **Ian 11:27 PM**_ _  
Decided to come home, see u soon :) love u_

Ian's knuckles went white with how hard he gripped the device. He was increasingly more glad Svetlana didn't ask many questions when Ian abruptly needed her to watch the kids with the promise of a later explanation. He was going to break shit. More specifically, Mickey's shit.

He started with Mickey's phone, tossing off the banister of the stairs until the screen was shattered beyond lighting up. He then stuck it in the blender, dumped the contents in the toilet, and flushed it. He felt a little lighter, but it wasn't enough.

Second, he went to his Xbox that was located under their TV. He then proceeded to smash it to tiny pieces in their garage with Mickey's own hammer. He collected the pieces in a tarp he'd set down previous, and tossed it in the garbage.

Third came Mickey's lucky underwear. It was always something Ian hadn't ever paid mind to, Mickey wasn't overly obsessed with them. However, he always wore them when he needed extra luck for anything. It didn't stop Ian from wanting to destroy them.

He threw them down into the lid of their old tin garbage can before soaking them with lighter fluid and tossing a match onto them. With a sudden _whoosh_ , the underpants were up in flames and soon turned to ashes.

It felt good, but it wasn't enough. No matter how much of Mickey's crap he destroyed, he'd still have this ever present feelings of _why_ deep inside his chest. Sure, he was rarely home. But it was for the sake of his family. All he ever wanted for them was the best.

Soon, he found himself laying on his couch, sobbing to Fiona over the phone.

_"Slow down, sweetface, what's wrong?"_

Her voice was tinny and far away, yet it till sounded like home. He hated bothering her, she had her own family and her own worries but he just— he needed her. And since he wasn't able to see her in person on such short notice, a messy phone call would have to do.

Ian placed a hand over his mouth and attempted at a few composing breaths, only devolving into hysterics again. It was his first actual cry since it happened, besides the tears of anger that had slipped during the fight and destroying Mickey's shit.

"Mick—," he hiccuped and sniffed loudly, "Mickey cheated on me, Fi," he forced out with a single rush of air, sucking in another breath in order to just spit it out. "I caught him—, I caught him in our bed, Fiona," he cried, wiping with little success at the tears on his face. "He was fucking another man in the bed we share," he said raggedly, his head beginning to pound with an impending headache.

 _"Mickey.. he_ what _?"_

She sounded horrified, disgusted, and sad, all in one. Ian let out a pathetic sound, snuffling loudly.

 _"You okay? Well— that's a dumb question, sorry,"_ she admonished herself and sighed over the line. _"I mean.. what's the next step for you, Ian?"_

Ian sat dumbstruck for a moment, opening his mouth and taking a breath, the tears he'd cried drying uncomfortably on his skin. "I don't.." he breathed in deeply, his voice sounding through a sob. "I don't know," he shrugged, to no one but himself.

 _"I don't know what to say, sweetheart,"_ she said softly, motherly.

Ian missed her so much he felt the ache in his bones. Sure, he was a grown man now, but she was the closest to an actual mother he ever had. Will ever have.

 _"You and Mickey have always, I mean,"_ she chuckled sadly over the line, a sigh leaving her lips. _"You've two have been through some shit, and you've always made it out on the other side, better from it,"_ she sounded like she was in a different room, it was quieter.

"What about this?" Ian cringed at how pitiful he sounded. "Do you think we can make it through something like this?" He breathed, scrubbing a fist over his eye.

She was quiet for a moment, the silence dragging on for only a second. _"Honestly?"_ She asked, not expecting an answer. _"Yeah,"_ she breathed, her own voice sounding a little watery.

Ian blinked away a few fresh tears, sitting up with a groan as his head throbbed painfully. "Uh," he said lamely, "thanks for listening, Fi. I gotta go," he rushed out.

 _"Okay, sweetie. Reach out if you need anything else, got it?"_ She said lovingly. It made Ian's heart warm.

"Of course," he murmured before exchanging goodbyes.

He had a feeling he'd be calling her up again soon, anyway.

-

Mickey woke up to Mandy ripping the thin throw blanket off of him, shoving her blinds open, and pushing him off the couch.

"The fuck?" He slurred, looking around, disoriented by the sudden change in his surroundings. He'd just fallen into a fitful sleep and was content to stay there for a while.

"It's eleven, asswipe. It's your day off, too," she crossed her arms and looked down at him. He was on his back, Mandy's face even more menacing from the ground. "You know, that day you usually spend with your husband and your kids? Remember them?" She asked with very serious venom in her voice.

Mickey sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, his shoulders slumped miserably, "yeah."

Mandy kicked his lower back, eliciting a grunt from her brother. "Instead of moping around my place, you should maybe go fix that marriage of yours," she added with another, harder kick.

"Fucks sake, Mandy," he groaned before finally standing up. "I know what I got to do, alright?" He murmured without looking at her. "Just let me work on getting halfway decent," he added and disappeared into her bathroom.

He cringed when he saw his reflection. The bags under his eyes were monumental that paired with the deep set guilt that settled into his bones. He went to grab his cell from his pocket before realizing it was most likely dead on his nightstand.

"Fuck me," he groaned and shrugged it off before going about his morning business.

By the end of his shower, he could smell bacon, his stomach rumbling pointedly at him. However, when he walked into the dining room, he was greeted by the sight of Mandy scarfing down eggs and bacon while an empty bowl and cereal waited for him on the table. He knew better than to bitch about it. She eyed him carefully when he wordlessly ate his cereal without milk.

-

Ian wasn't going to let his extra days off go completely to waste. He'd destroyed enough of Mickey's things and cried enough tears to put up a semblance of sanity. He wanted to spend the rest of his time off with his kids. He carefully tiptoed around Svetlana and her prodding questions, and the even more persistent nagging of his younger children wondering where Papa was.

"Why isn't Papa coming with us to the park?" Liv asked curiously from her car seat beside Alex. Yev exchanged a worried look with Ian from the passenger side. "Pops got busy with work," Yevgeny shrugged. Ian was going to have to raise that kids allowance, or something.

That seemed to acquiescence her need for answers, more concerned with the impending ice cream truck that would be waiting at the park.

The day was nice, better than Ian was expecting given the circumstances. He chased his younger two around with threats of tickling, and even tossed a baseball back and fourth with Yevgeny. He still couldn't fight the feeling of something missing, and he knew exactly what it was.

Mickey wasn't there. He should have been. It was a beautiful day.

-

Mickey finally found the courage to stop being a pussy around seven in the evening. He saw Ian's rover pull into their garage two hours ago, watching like a fucking buffoon from behind a tree in the distance. He would have called and asked Ian to meet him someplace, but it he didn't have his cell. So, staking out his own home it was.

Seven in the evening was usually when they'd finish up dinner and start the raucous task of getting the toddlers into bed while Yevgeny would go about his own routine.

It was now or never. His index finger collided with the doorbell before he had half the mind to turn around and bolt it back to Mandy's.

He heard the painfully familiar heavy footfalls approach the door. Ian mustn't have looked through the peephole, because judging by the look on his face, he wasn't expecting Mickey.

"Hey," Mickey breathed slowly, tensing up. He instantly felt like shit for the way Ian's mouth set into a thin line, his eyes shining slightly.

"Hey, yourself," Ian grunted, his knuckles white from his grip on the door.

"Please hear me out, okay? Hear me out," he spoke quickly, needing to get a word in before Ian sent him away. He was thoroughly surprised when Ian nodded.

"Kay, I'll hear you out," he spoke through clenched teeth. "You wanna explain to me why the _hell_ you fucked another man in our bed? I'm all ears, Mikhailo," he hissed.

Mickey felt his eyes burn stupidly. He didn't deserve to cry. He was the one at fault, as much as that pained him to admit. "Will you come outside? The kids are probably getting ready for bed," he murmured quietly.

Ian looked like he was contemplating pros and cons. Or Mickey's murder, but it's whatever. He moved out of the way of the doorway, nodding for Mickey to come inside. He closed the door softly after they were both inside, arms crossed over his chest, eyes still a bit wet. His freckles seemed more vibrant, like he'd been in the sun. Or maybe it was because he hadn't seen him in a day.

"They're at Svet's," he informed. "You wanted me to hear you out?" Ian asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Right," Mickey nodded and scratched his nose with his knuckle. "Ian.." he knew he was in for it, but he had I get it out. "I fucked up, big time. I know nothing I could ever say, or do, could possibly make this better. I have no excuses lined up, no alibis. I just— I can't tell you how sorry I am, Ian," he shuddered, breathing around his impending tears.

"You're sorry?" Ian asked incredulously, tipping his head back in a morose laugh. "Well, that fixes it, then! Problems solved, can't thank you enough, Mick," he spat sarcastically. The moment of silence that followed dragged on for what felt like an hour. "Why?" Ian eventually whispered, thick tears leaving tracks down his cheeks. "Why would you do this? I know I haven't been home lately, but," he shook his head in disbelief. "You couldn't have just talked to me? Told me how you felt? I thought we were past keeping secrets," he said, mouth twisting into a sob before he put a hand over his mouth to collect himself.

"I know," Mickey croaked and reached out to caress Ian's face with his hand. He felt like running a marathon when he didn't flinch away.

"I hate that there's nothing you could do to make me hate you," Ian wept, leaning his cheek into his husbands hand. "Even though you deserve it so much right now."

Mickey smiled sadly, pushing Ian's hair from his face. After a moment passed, he spoke up again. "I get if you don't want me here, I can head back to Mandy's," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes lifted to meet Ian's. He saw it there, the spark in his eyes. The hunger, the hate.

Before Mickey could say anything else, he was surging forward to kiss Ian hard. It was rough, passionate in the most feral ways. He backed Ian up to the wall near their stairs, Ian yanking his hair back to bite along his Adam's apple and inevitably leave bruises in his wake.

"Upstairs," Mickey rasped, his legs feeling like jelly as he and Ian raced to their bedroom in record time. Ultimately, the boner killer was when Ian grabbed a condom from his bedside table. They never really used condoms anymore, they were both clean, and—, oh. Right, Ian didn't know that for sure anymore. He didn't say anything beyond grabbing it, and reattaching himself to Mickey after ripping off their clothes. Literally, tore the collar of Mickey's t-shirt in the midst of undressing him. This was a hate fuck, and it already felt incredible.

"Fuck, I hate you," Ian groaned, wasting no time when he started scissoring his fingers inside Mickey's hole, feeling his warm walls constrict around him like a vice. "I hate you, but I love you, shit," he groaned, looking startled when Mickey flipped over to be on top. He was going to ride Ian until he forgot his name.

He grabbed Ian's wrist and gently pried his fingers out of him, gripping his cock and sinking down onto it slowly, savoring the feeling and the familiarity of it all. He'd never bottomed with his side piece, it felt too intimate, too wrong. This kind of intimacy was only for Ian. Before he could get lost in his feelings, Ian sat up; making them chest to chest as he rocked into him at a steady, punishing pace.

"This ass," Ian groaned, bringing his hands down to fondle the plump globes of flesh. "I bet he couldn't fuck you like I could, right? Make you come without touching yourself?" He stated rhetorically.

Mickey's arms wrapped under Ian's arms, his blunt nails digging and dragging down Ian's back, leaving angry red lines. "Never—," he gasped, eyes rolling back in sheer bliss. "Never let anyone fuck me but you," he whimpered and let his head loll back. " _Ian_ ," he shivered, grinding down to meet his thrusts. He let out a warbled moan when he felt both of his husbands hands smack down on his ass, no doubt leaving handprints. He was going to feel this for days.

"That so?" Ian asked, not expecting an answer. He pushed Mickey backwards so he was on his back, pinned down by Ian's body and the way his hips snapped erratically against him.

"Holy shit that's so good," he moaned, his voice choppy from each thrust. "Fuck me," he whined, holding on to Ian's back for dear life.

There wasn't as many words as usual during their normal sex routine, but there sure as fuck was more brutality. Ian's teeth bared down on Mickey's neck, leaving shiny bruises where his teeth indented his skin. It was so good, so much.

Ian sat up, his torso sticky with his and Mickey's mingled sweat as he dug his fingers into Mickey's thighs, doubling his pace.

"Come for me, do it," Ian groaned, smacking his hand down on Mickey's right thigh, watching his cock twitch before spurting thick ropes of cum across his stomach, untouched.

"Hell yeah, only I can make you come like that, right? Tell me you love it," he babbled as he chased his own release.

"Fuck _yes_ , only you, _I love you_ , Ian," he gasped and felt chills race up his arms as Ian's hips stuttered before giving a few pointed thrusts, a telltale sign he'd reached his climax, sending Mickey though a fresh wave of aftershocks.

He fell in a heap on top of Mickey, pulling out to avoid the gentle sensitivity that would come with pulling out after he was soft.

He rolled over, facing him, his eyes closed and arm extended.

Mickey never felt more at home than in Ian's arms, and now, he was home again.

-

The morning held a harsh reality for Ian. It was commonplace to wake up tangled in Mickey, but the fact of the matter dawned on him that he was currently wrapped up in his cheating husband. It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on his head.

He scrambled out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers before scrubbing a hand over his face. He couldn't believe he'd done that. He gave in so quickly, because it was almost like fucking instinct. It was.

Mickey opened his eyes blearily, rubbing his eyes and peering up at Ian quizzically. "What's wrong? Come back to bed," he yawned. Ever the _casual_ motherfucker.

"You need to leave," his voice was warbled, rough with sleep and too many emotions to process at ten in the morning. "I can't— you can't be here," he breathed and picked up the shirt Mickey wore last night, tossing it at him. "Go, please," he breathed, arms crossed defensively.

"Ian," Mickey whispered, eyes clouding up with moisture. "You can't— you don't mean that, baby," he pleaded, standing and grabbing his underpants before dressing himself.

"Last night was a mistake, you have to leave," he murmured, turning his back to Mickey to face the window. Gentle rays of light played through the slits of the blinds, serving a muted ambiance that didn't fit the mood of the room.

"You don't mean that," Mickey tried, walking towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, only to be shaken off violently. Ian's face was full of fury and fiery emotion when he faced his husband.

"You _cheated_ , Mickey! You cheated on me," he shouted, arms gesticulating wildly. His tears burned hot against his cheeks, hair a little wild from sleep. "You cheated on me in our own fucking bed. The bed we've spent our entire marriage in, you fucked another man where we've slept for the past ten years, and for _what_? To get off on the side with some closet case that worked for me?!" He shouted, veins in his neck bulging. "Was I really that terrible?" His voice was softer now, small. "I've gone over that moment a million times in my head, and all I can think about—," he hiccuped, attempting to compose himself. "All I can think about is what I could have done to prevent it," he stated bitterly, wiping his cheeks before speaking again after a long moment. "We have kids, Mick. Did you ever stop to think of them, what kind of affect this might have on them?" His eyebrows raised, watching as Mickey stared at him with s regretful look on his face.

"I—," Mickey started, his eyes brimmed with wet tears that he fought to keep at bay.

"I've contemplated contacting my lawyer, Mick. Divorcing you, taking the kids. The whole nine yards," he murmured, watching the color drain from Mickey's face.

"Ian, you _can't_ — I love you, I love our kids. You can just throw our lives away—," he begged, stepping closer to him, cut off when Ian placed a hand on his chest to stop him from coming nearer.

"Then prove it, Mickey," he sighed tiredly, tear tracks dried on his cheeks. "Because I don't know anymore."

Mickey fish mouthed, blinking to let the thick tears drop to the floor in pathetic globs. "Given the chance, I would spend the rest of my life giving you my all, Ian. I swear," he promised, breathing in a rush.

To Mickey's ultimate and complete surprise, Ian nodded.

"Okay."

-

It was a whole two months before Mickey was allowed to sleep in their bed again. The younger two thought of it as a slumber party, while Yevgeny was smart enough to gather the actual ramifications of it.

The night he was allowed was a night where Yevgeny went to a sleepover and Svetlana took their younger kids. Once she found out about what Mickey had done, she kicked him hard enough in the shin to give him a bruise that lasted a week, and cursed him out in Russian. He knew he deserved it, anyway.

Ian had decidedly lessened his work schedule by only a small amount, only dedicating time that was actually necessary to his company so he wouldn't have to neglect his home life. He deemed it a worthy sacrifice, for his kids and for his marriage.

Once laid in bed beside one another, both of them on their backs, a certain awkwardness permeating the air between them before Mickey spoke up.

"I can't sleep without you, you know?" Mickey murmured. "Takes me hours to finally get to sleep, and now that I'm laying here with you.." he chuckled and turned his face to gaze at Ian. "I'm about to pass the fuck out."

Ian couldn't help it, he laughed. It wasn't that funny, wasn't really funny at all. It was just.. such a _Mickey_ thing to say. It felt nice, the familiarity.

Mickey laughed too, using that time to scoot closer to Ian and burrow into his side, head rested on his chest with his leg thrown lazily over his hips. It was home again.

After the silence that ensued, Ian gentle fiddled with the hair at the nape of Mickey's neck, lingering for a moment before speaking up. "It's still going to take a while before I forgive you. You know that, right?" He asked softly, meeting Mickey's gaze.

Mickey only leaned forward, pressing his lips to Ian's in a slow, tender kiss. He pulled away, his forehead gently leant against Ian's, hand coming up to caress his stubbled cheek. "I know, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes, for the rest of my life, to prove to you that I'm sorry."

Ian smiled, eyes a little watery before he surged up to press his lips to Mickey's once more.

Maybe Fiona was right after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Please leave kudos and feedback if you'd like to :)


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